Lachlan's Heart: Book Two of The MacCulloughs

by Suzan Tisdale

  Whilst those changes were for the better, there were other changes that Colyne didn’t like. Such as bathing more than once a month. But more importantly, the changes taking place in his brother.

  Raibeart no longer had the time for him. He was too busy training and bein’ a man, as he often like to claim.

  Colyne missed him.

  He was mightily surprised, therefore, to find his brother waiting for him in the courtyard the following morning. There was something about the way the early morning light was shining down that made Colyne realize just how Raibeart was looking more and more like Richard. “Were ye plannin’ on sleepin’ the day away?” Raibeart asked, sounding most serious.

  Colyne stopped and began to stammer out an apology. ‘Twas then that Raibeart grinned most mischievously. “Dinnae fash yerself, brother. I was only jestin’.”

  Much relieved, Colyne’s shoulders relaxed.

  “Richard is delayed this morn,” Raibeart said as they started toward the training fields. “But dinnae worry it, ye will be trainin’ with me this morn.”

  For the first time in a very long while, Colyne actually smiled. How long had it been since the two of them actually spent any good amount of time together? Not wishing to waste a moment thinking on it, he raced to catch up to the brother he admired most in this world. ‘Twas going to be a verra good day.

  Chapter Five

  Lachlan’s skull ached incessantly. A malady he’d never suffered from until arriving at the Chisolm keep.

  They’d been here for over a sennight and were no closer to gaining the fealty of the Chisolms than the day they’d first crossed through the massive walls of the keep.

  ’Twas just after the morning meal as he sat in his private study. A small room directly behind the gathering room, it had once been used for storing spare candles, dishes, linens and the like. He had refused to take over the former laird’s large and opulently furnished study.

  Thankfully, the roaring fire from the grand hearth on the opposite side of the wall gave off enough heat to warm the small space. There was barely enough room for the table he used as a desk, let alone a brazier. ’Twas even more cramped this morn as Jamie and Fergus sat in chairs across from him.

  “Ye really must consider taking a larger room,” Jamie said. “I cannae even stretch out my legs.”

  Lachlan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “We are nae here for comfort,” he admonished. “We are here to insure a successful transition for the future of Black Richard and Aeschene’s bairn.”

  Jamie scoffed, for he’d heard those words far too many times in the past weeks. “I ken why we are here,” he said. “But that does nae mean we have to live like monks.”

  To Lachlan’s way of thinking, he needed to get rid of every reminder from any former lairds. He needed to show the Chisolm people that ’twas he, a MacCullough, who was in charge now.

  Ignoring Jamie’s complaint, he asked for their morning reports. He’d intentionally put Jamie in charge of gleaning information from the Chisolm womenfolk for various reasons. The primary one being Jamie had a reputation for wooing lasses. Although Lachlan couldn’t see the appeal himself, most women found it difficult to turn away from Jamie’s dark blue eyes and dimpled cheeks.

  “I tell ye, Lachlan, I have ne’er met a more stubborn lot of women,” Jamie said. “They are still loyal to Randall Chisolm and the man’s been dead for weeks.”

  Fergus grunted. “Ye mean yer good looks and charm are nae workin’ on the lasses?”

  “I would nae say that,” Jamie said with a grin. “As long as I can get them away from their mums for a few moments, I have nae problem finding what I need.”

  Fergus let out a weary sigh. “Yer physical needs are nae nearly as important as information.”

  Jamie chuckled. “And who says I cannae achieve both?”

  Frustrated, Lachlan held up a hand. “I dunnae care how ye get the information. Just tell us what ye ken.”

  He sat up taller in his seat, scratched his stubbled jaw and began to divulge what he knew. “They still despise us bein’ here,” Jamie said.

  That came as no surprise to any of them.

  “Say what we will about Maitland and Randall bein’ sons of whores and ruthless bastards. But ne’er once have their people gone without.”

  ’Twas the same story they’d heard since arriving. There was not one Chisolm who would say a bad word against their former lairds.

  “So how do we go about gaining their fealty?” Fergus asked.

  That was the same question they’d been asking for weeks. Thus far, nothing was working.

  “At least they’ve quit tryin’ to poison us,” Jamie offered.

  “For now, they have,” Lachlan said. “But could be naught more than a ploy to try to gain our trust.”

  Fergus agreed. “I trust none of them.”

  “If we could get rid of Murdoch …” Jamie was once again subtly hinting at his firm belief they needed to hang Murdoch Chisolm.

  While he was truly tempted at times to do just that, Lachlan still refused. “And make a martyr out of him?” he asked rhetorically with a shake of his head. “Nay.”

  “Ye either kill him or let him out of the dungeons,” Fergus said. “The longer ye keep him there, the more these people will resist.”

  Lachlan gave the matter considerable consideration. His original intent had been to keep the men locked up until their spirits were broken and they’d finally acquiesce. Instead of breaking them, prison seemed to make them stronger. “Ye may be right,” he said before chuckling. “They are nearly as stubborn as we are, aye?”

  His statement garnered no argument from Fergus. Jamie, however, was reluctant to agree.

  “Verra well,” Lachlan said. “We shall let them out. Let them return to their wives and families. Maybe ’twill be looked upon as a gesture of good will.”

  “I give it a day before Murdoch begins another insurrection,” Jamie said.

  Lachlan smiled rather deviously. “Then ’twill give us a good reason to kill him, aye?”

  That notion lifted all their spirits.

  “Now, have we gotten a complete tally of the number of Chisolms?” Lachlan asked, moving on to other matters.

  Fergus pulled a small bit of parchment from the pouch on his belt. He carefully unfolded it and read his accounting. “Including the prisoners below, there are two-hundred and seven warriors of varying ages and degrees of skill. One-hundred and seventy-two of them are married. We have one-hundred and eighty-seven bairns and weans, and countless women who are with child. There are also thirty-seven lasses who are of marryin’ age and forty-nine lads ready to train.”

  “Good, lord!” Lachlan exclaimed. He hadn’t realized just how large the Chisolm clan was.

  Fergus gave a curt nod but looked at odds with something.

  “What about the elderly and infirm?” Lachlan asked.

  “I was just about to get to that,” Fergus said. “There are none.”

  Puzzled, Lachlan asked for clarification.

  “’Tis as I am tellin’ ye, Lachlan. I can find no one over the age of fifty. No one who is ill, on the verge of death, no one I would consider elderly. I cannae even find a man missin’ a finger. ’Tis the oddest thing I have e’er seen.”

  “I have noticed that as well,” Jamie said. “I have nae seen anyone with even the slightest limp.”

  The hairs on the back of Lachlan’s neck stood on end. “And have ye made inquiries into this oddity?”

  Fergus rolled his eyes. “Of course, I have,” he replied. “And ye can well imagine the response. No one will speak of it.”

  Something dark niggled at the back of his mind. There could be no good and sound reason for such an anomaly.

  “Did ye count the two women who live in the woods?” Jamie asked Fergus.

  Fergus furrowed his brow. “I have,” he replied.

  “What two women?” Lachlan asked.

  “Accordin’ to some, there are two young wome
n who live in the woods. They be nae of their right minds. The clan shunned them long ago,” Fergus explained.

  “Shunned them?” Lachlan asked with a raised brow. “For what reason?”

  Fergus shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “For nae bein’ of sound mind.”

  “There must be more to it than that,” Lachlan said, clearly appalled by the notion.

  “Some say they be witches,” Jamie added.

  “Are they a danger to themselves or others?” Lachlan asked.

  Jamie shook his head. “I honestly dunnae ken, Lachlan. All anyone will tell us is that they were shunned years ago because they were ‘odd’ and nae of sound mind.”

  “Odd? Nae of sound mind?” Lachlan was incredulous.

  “They are also convinced those verra woods are haunted. From what I have learned, nae a soul has so much has set a toe inside it in decades.”

  “Haunted?” The ache in his head increased.

  Jamie scratched his stubble jaw. “That is what they believe. Filled with witches and fairies and ghosts.”

  “Fetch me the steward,” he said, directing the order to Fergus simply because he was closest to the door.

  Walter Chisolm was a man of few words.

  He now sat opposite his new laird in Lachlan’s very cramped study. Any fool could see the man was as nervous as a whore in church. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down repeatedly as he did his best to hide his trembling hands.

  Walter was a tall, slender man with thinning light brown hair. He’d tried to hide the fact that he was losing the aforementioned hair by combing one side over at an extreme angle before sweeping it forward to cover his forehead. Lachlan wondered if any of the Chisolms had the heart to tell the poor man he looked utterly ridiculous.

  “Have ye found the missing books yet?” Lachlan asked. He hadn’t thought he sounded too harsh, but Walter very nearly jumped out of his own skin. ’Twas a question he’d been asking since the first day of his arrival. Thus far, Walter was unable to ‘locate’ them. Swearing they must have been lost or destroyed during the invasion of the interlopers - better known as the McDunnahs and MacCulloughs.

  “N-Nay,” he replied before swallowing hard for the umpteenth time.

  Lachlan didn’t believe him. He hadn’t believed him the first dozen or so times he claimed not to know the whereabouts of the Chisolm accountings, journals, and other documents in question. That was why he’d put Fergus and a few other men on the task of finding them.

  “Ye’re quite certain?” Lachlan asked.

  “Quite certain.”

  He knew the man was lying, but Walter was unaware of the fact. For nearly a fortnight, they’d been trying to get an accounting of the Chisolm’s assets and debts. Walter, the steward for the former laird, should have been the one person who knew what was what and who was who. Thus far, he’d fought every attempt Lachlan had made at asking nicely.

  Lachlan stood up from his desk and walked to the door. “Would ye be surprised, Walter, to learn that I have found the books and ledgers?” he asked as he opened the door. Jamie and Fergus walked in, each with a crate filled with journals and ledgers. Carefully, they set the items on the table in front of Walter.

  “’Twas absolutely amazin’ where we found them,” Lachlan said as he watched from near the door. “These we found hidden in a secret space behind the wall of yer room.”

  Two more men entered the room, each with a crate filled with more of the accountings. “These we found hidden in the stables.”

  As soon as they left, two more men entered. Between them, a heavy trunk. “And aye, we found the coffers. Hidden in the granary.”

  After the last men left, Lachlan closed the door. “Now, why do ye reckon all of these verra important documents and yer gold were scattered hither and yon?”

  Walter rather resembled a fish trying to catch a worm. His mouth opened and shut several times as he fought to come up with a plausible explanation.

  Lachlan had reached the end of his patience. He slammed a heavy fist down on top of the only empty space left on his desk. “Damn it, man!” he barked. “I have had enough of ye and the rest of yer people behavin’ like spoiled brats!”

  Walter had jumped at the fist hitting the desk. He jumped in his seat again when Lachlan began to shout.

  “I am nae yer enemy. I am yer laird and chief. And it is high time ye and every one of ye begin to see it, lest I cast the lot of ye out!”

  The man couldn’t find the wherewithal or the courage to reply.

  Lachlan took in a steadying breath. “Walter, I wish ye no ill will, I truly dunnae. I would rather work with ye, to bring order to this clan. I will give ye two days to think about whether or not ye’d like to work with me or if ye’d like to be banished from the clan.”

  Stunned, his mouth fell agape as his eyes grew wide and round. “Banished?”

  “Aye. Banished.”

  Lachlan stood to his full height. “The choice is yers, Walter. I suggest ye think long and hard. Ye are dismissed.”

  Walter got to his feet and hurried from the room.

  After the door closed, Lachlan turned his attention to Jamie. “I want ye to bring Murdoch to me.”

  “To discuss his decision to stay?”

  Lachlan shook his head. “Nay. To discuss his surrender.”

  It had taken Fergus and Jamie nearly three hours to find Murdoch Chisolm. Once word had spread that his presence was required before their new laird, the clan began a grand game of hide and find.

  They found him all right. Hiding in a secret space in the attic of the granary. Fergus believed it a most egregious and cowardly thing to do. Jamie was of the belief ’twas just another game the Chisolms liked to play; aggravate the bloody hell out of the MacCulloughs until they left out of sheer frustration.

  After dragging him from the dark hiding space, Fergus forced the man to the ladder.

  “Hidin’ like a coward,” Fergus said through gritted teeth as he watched the man slink down the ladder. “After all yer braggin’ about yer bravery.” He was truly and thoroughly disgusted.

  “I was nae hidin’,” Murdoch argued. “’Tis me favorite place to nap. Nice and quiet.”

  Jamie waited until Fergus climbed down before taking Murdoch by one arm. Fergus took the other.

  “I say cowardice,” Fergus said as they walked toward the keep.

  “I would have to agree,” Jamie said.

  Murdoch laughed at the accusation. “I wager ye a hundred sillars I could best both of ye with one arm tied behind my back.”

  Jamie and Fergus glanced at one another before breaking into riotous laughter. “Says the man who has been hidin’ like a frightened bird for three hours.”

  “I’ve seen braver newborn lambs,” Fergus added as they thundered angrily across the yard. Chickens squawked and scattered and people glowered as they made their way toward the keep.

  “Ye will see,” Murdoch told them. “Soon enough, ye shall see.”

  Chapter Six

  Lachlan was waiting for them in the gathering room. Sitting in a chair at the long table on the dais, he took a sip of ale -MacCullough ale- as they were still untrusting of the Chisolms. He watched the men come into the room.

  Fergus and Jamie brought Murdoch forward, neither letting loose their grip on the man’s arms.

  “Found him hidin’ in the granary,” Fergus told him. “Like the coward he is.”

  Murdoch shook his head with a good measure of disinterest. “I told ye, I was merely nappin’.”

  Lachlan glared across the table. “I have had enough of yer games,” Lachlan told him. “A fortnight ago, ye said ye wished to stay. But ye have yet to swear yer fealty,” the laird reminded him. “Why did ye nae leave with the others?”

  More than fifty warriors, along with wives and children, had left the day he had given them the choice. But Murdoch had chosen to stay. Lachlan was by no means a stupid man. He knew from the first moment he met the man he’d have to watch him carefully.
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  “This is my home,” Murdoch told him pointedly.

  “Then ye will give me yer fealty?” Lachlan was certain he already knew the answer. Even if Murdoch agreed, there was a strong possibility ‘twould be naught more than empty words.

  “If ye want my fealty, MacCullough, ye will need to earn it.”

  His statement surprised Lachlan. He had anticipated a worthless promise. “I challenge ye, MacCullough. I challenge ye.”

  The challenge wasn’t surprising in and of itself. What Lachlan did find astonishing was the strength behind the words, the tone of his voice, and the way he stood, tall and proud—with conviction.

  “Ye think ye could best me in battle?” Lachlan asked with a raised brow.

  Pulling his shoulders back, Murdoch nodded his head slowly. “Aye, I do. Ye are nae wanted here, MacCullough. None of ye are.”

  “We earned the right to be here, Murdoch. We did nae start the war betwixt our clans; Maitland Chisolm did. Ye have no one to blame for this but he.”

  Murdoch scoffed openly. “Maitland did what was best for his people. He had every right to retaliate.”

  Puzzled, Lachlan took a step forward. “Retaliate? Against the MacCulloughs?” He was utterly confused. “Pray, tell me, what exactly did the MacCulloughs do that necessitated retaliation?”

  The look Murdoch gave Lachlan said he thought him no smarter than a flea. With a groan of disgust, he said, “When yer men attacked us like cowards.”

  Lachlan’s brow furrowed in confusion.

  “Near on seven years ago, Galen MacCullough sent a band of his warriors to our southern border. In the middle of the night, thirty of yer men killed five of our young men who patrolled the border.” Anger burned behind his eyes. His voice grew deeper, filled with repugnance. “After that, they made their way onto our lands and killed an innocent family of six. Set their home ablaze. Raped the young mother of four as they made her husband and children watch. That is why we retaliated.”

  Repulsed at the notion, Lachlan ground his teeth together before responding. “I tell ye we never did such a thing. Never.”